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Postcards from Three Pines: The Cruelest Month

“Happy Easter! Writing is coming a bit easier. More confident I can actually do this. Season of rebirth to new life for me. Exciting!”

AN EXCERPT FROM THE CRUELEST MONTH

‘So what did Ruth want?’ Olivier asked, as he placed single malt Scotches in front of Myrna and Gabri. Odile and Gilles had gone home but everyone else was in the bistro. Clara waved to Peter, who was shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on a peg by the door. She’d called him as soon as the séance had ended and invited him to the post-mortem.

‘Well, at first we thought she was yelling “fuck”,’ said Myrna, ‘then we realized she was yelling “duck”.’

‘Duck? Really?’ said Olivier, sitting on the arm of Gabri’s wing chair and sipping cognac. ‘Duck? Do you think she’s been saying that all along?’

‘And we just misheard?’ asked Myrna. ‘Duck off. Is that what she said to me the other day?’

‘Duck you?’ said Clara. ‘It’s possible. She is often in a fowl mood.’

Monsieur Béliveau laughed and looked over at Madeleine, pale and quiet beside him.

The fine April day had given way to a cold and damp night. It was getting on for midnight and they were the only ones in the bistro now.

‘What did she want?’ Peter asked.
‘Help with some duck eggs. Remember the ones we found by the pond this afternoon?’ said Clara, turning to Mad. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’ Madeleine smiled. ‘Just a little edgy.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Jeanne. She sat on a hard chair slightly outside their circle. She’d reverted to her mousy self; all evidence of the strong, calm psychic had evaporated as soon as the lights had come on.

‘Oh, no, I’m sure it’s nothing to do with the séance,’ Madeleine assured her. ‘We had coffee after dinner and it must have had caffeine. It affects me that way.’

‘What’s the story with the eggs?’ asked Olivier, smoothing the crease on his immaculate corduroys.

‘Seems Ruth went to the pond after we’d left and picked them up,’ Clara explained.

‘Oh, no,’ said Mad.

‘Then the birds came back and wouldn’t sit on the nest,’ said Clara. ‘Just as you predicted. So Ruth took the eggs home.’

‘To eat?’ asked Myrna.

‘To hatch,’ said Gabri, who’d gone with Clara back to Ruth’s tiny house to see if they could help.

‘She didn’t sit on them, did she?’ Myrna asked, not sure if she was amused or repulsed by the image.

‘No, it was actually quite sweet. When we arrived the eggs were sitting on a soft flannel blanket in a basket. She’d put the whole lot in her oven on low.’

‘Good idea,’ said Peter. Like the rest, he’d have expected Ruth to devour, not save, them.

‘I don’t think she’s had that oven on in years. Keeps saying it takes too much energy,’ said Myrna.

‘Well, she has it on now,’ said Clara. ‘Trying to hatch the ducks. Those poor parents.’ She picked up her Scotch and glanced out the window to the darkness of the village green and imagined the parents sitting by the pond, at the spot where their young family had been, where their babies had sat in their little shells, trusting that Mom and Dad would keep them safe and warm. Ducks mate for life, Clara knew. That’s why duck hunting season was particularly cruel. Every now and then in the fall you’d see a lone duck, quacking. Calling. Waiting for its spouse. And for the rest of its life it would wait.

Discussion on “Postcards from Three Pines: The Cruelest Month”

Such rich writing and detail in a few paragraphs is what makes Louise’s novels a favorite of her followers.
This brings me back to when I first read “The Cruelest Month” and now I want to read it again to mine the golden nuggets of clues!
And yes…although Ruth often is in a “fowl” mood, one of those golden nuggets are placed within her beating heart.

I am bringing my mum (almost 89 years old) to Knowlton area later this week to visit the “Three Pines” area. A trip she has wanted to do for a few years. We are both very excited to see the area that has inspired so many wonderful books. Thank you Louise Penny!

My wife and I love the books, and look forward to the next. But not sure we want to visit Knowlton. Louise describes Three Pines so vividly, my imagination knows it very well, and I wouldn’t want to disturb my reality. And besides, i’d Be disappointed to find out that Ruth doesn’t live there.

We went for our fiftieth – stayed at Maison Hovey. We took the Gamache tour around the area – loved every minute. I wasn’t exactly Three Pines but that village still remains off the map. Can’t wait to go back!!! Am starting the series for the third time while I wait for the new volume in November.

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